


Body-Gripping

by Tridraconeus



Series: Pest Control [1]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bleeding, Crossfaction, Enemies With Benefits, M/M, Manhandling, Peril, Power Imbalance, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Unnegotiated Kink, hatefucking, noncon elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/pseuds/Tridraconeus
Summary: Evan seizes him around the throat with one massive hand, lifts him clear into the air and slams his back against the wall. Jake tucks his chin down and barely avoids his head colliding with the wall, and the next second Evan has a leg pushed between his— trapping him, forcing Jake to rely on him entirely for support. Relying on anangryTrapperfor support is not something Jake has ever enjoyed, but the position couldn’t be more perfect for his intentions.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Jake Park
Series: Pest Control [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768081
Comments: 8
Kudos: 112





	Body-Gripping

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags! noncon elements = implied consent but no actual consent given, severe power imbalance, no option for jake to withdraw consent, but at no point does this actually become noncon. he's into it the entire time. christ.

Evan seizes him around the throat with one massive hand, lifts him clear into the air and slams his back against the wall. Jake tucks his chin down and barely avoids his head colliding with the wall, and the next second Evan has a leg pushed between his— trapping him, forcing Jake to rely on him entirely for support. Relying on an _angry_ _Trapper_ for support is not something Jake has ever enjoyed, but the position couldn’t be more perfect for his intentions. He breathes out and clamps Evan’s thigh between his own, rocking down on his leg. He grips Evan’s wrist with both hands, secure but not squeezing. 

Evan holds still for a long, long moment, letting Jake rut down on him, and then tilts his head. Jake hates when he does that. It makes him look like a beast about to strike, a predator that’s caught a scent, someone who knows they’ve won and won’t win with grace. 

It’s cold, cruel interest, put simply. 

“Oh,” Evan growls, still enraged but no longer apoplectic now that Jake is trapped between him and the wall. “You want to play _this_ game now.”

He drops him, catches him again by the back of his jacket and holds him fast. Jake squirms— fights it, not quite sure if it’s a game that Evan’s planning on playing _along_ with. 

Evan yanks his cargo pants and boxers down in one easy, brutal movement, and Jake realizes that he is. The fabric stings with how quickly it’s pulled down and it pools around his ankles, and Evan does not allow him to fiddle or fuss and get it off proper. He’s still got his shoes on, even. He trips over his pants and Evan seizes him by the arm, and then he trips _again_ and collapses with only Evan’s bruising grip keeping him upright. He’s half-naked, breathing hard, and _he’s_ hard, being half-carried half-dragged back into the workshop. He clings onto Evan’s waders and hauls himself back to his feet only to get tangled in the suffocating fabric again and pitch forward ungracefully. Evan’s _got_ him, he realizes, and now that he has he‘s not letting him catch his balance. 

Evan grabs him by the back of the neck like a kitten, fingers digging in, and bends him over the workbench. Jake barely gets his palms on the table quickly enough to keep himself from careening face first into the trap laid open below him. 

His breath catches. 

“You’d better hold still, saboteur. Your work won’t save you now.” Evan cuffs the back of his head, not nearly hard enough to send him pitching into the pressure plate but clear warning that he could.

He knows he will. Evan will let his head drop into the trap without a second thought. He braces himself with his elbows on the workbench, rising to his tiptoes. Evan holds him there with his hand tangled in his scarf and there’s rustling, creaking noises behind him-- and suddenly, a hot, thick mass pressed against his ass. It’s unmistakably Evan’s cock. Jake isn’t stupid, and he knows Evan isn’t stupid either, and for that reason had expected Evan to use lube-- but he doesn’t seem to intend to. He’s still holding Jake down and won’t let him wiggle away even though he tries to as that massive cock nudges his dry, tight hole. 

Evan’s cock shoves inside him without even a warning push. It’s just a breach, a splitting ache, and he’s in, and he’s not _stopping_. He’s huge, and it hurts. Jake can’t lean forward to escape him because of the imposing, waiting jaws of the trap, and he can’t _retreat_ from the trap either-- because Evan’s there, hand bruising on his hip. 

Evan grips him hard around the hips again and hefts him up a little, repositions him, sends Jake tipping down so close to the trap that his nose brushes the circular pressure plate. He’s holding Jake with his feet off the ground, needing only the one massive hand on his waist to bear his weight. He holds Jake still and forces himself in, pulls himself back, crams himself back in Jake’s unprepared hole. Jake does not scream, but thinks he might. He’s still hard, and that’s painful too. He wants to touch himself but can’t spare a hand.

It’s drawn out, agonizing, and at the same time it’s over faster than Jake can process. Evan fucks him deep, and eventually the movement stops being so dry and Jake knows that’s only because Evan has torn him. He didn’t even spit. Evan doesn’t care for him, or his comfort, or even his safety one lick, and somehow that reassures him more than any soft touch ever could. He’s taking what he wants from Jake’s pain-frozen body and Jake’s all too happy to let him-- Evan would _never_ do this to him otherwise. Jake had to provoke him into it. Had to fuck with him until he had to do _something_.

Evan spills inside of him and that hurts too. Stings. Heat floods out of him when Evan pulls out, and he bites his lip.

Evan sets him down on his feet, finally, just kind of ungracefully dropping him, and that’s what puts him off balance-- arms slipping, splaying outward, and he can’t hold back a terrified howl as his cheek slams full-force into the trap. Maybe it’ll be quick. Maybe it’ll crush his head, or snap his neck, and maybe it’ll even be painless, but he knows how Evan’s traps work. He doesn’t care how much they hurt so long as they do their job. They don’t often break bones. 

Maybe Evan will kill him, if the trap doesn’t. 

Nothing happens. A jaw digs into his neck, but the trap didn’t spring. It’s cold under him, but it’s still.

Evan laughs. The bastard knew it was disarmed the entire damn time. Jake’s blood runs cold, then shamefully hot, then cold again. He’s shaking too badly to hit him, or run, or defend his dignity. His legs collapse under him and he slides down, falling half-curled onto the workshop floor. Evan leans over him and pokes his back with a boot like he’s a dead animal.

“Get out of my house,” he says, and leaves. 

**Author's Note:**

> please consider leaving a kudos and/or a comment if you enjoyed this! I'm on a journey to fill up the Jake/Evan tag and encouragement keeps me writing!


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